Painting Personalities
by Raven Young
Summary: They have nothing in common but each other, yet somewhere between his brush strokes and her mind games, maybe...just maybe... they might find a way to fill their blank canvas. College AU, Naruto is a painter and Hinata a psychology major. #NHFD9/2018
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is an entry on request for a NaruHina fluffy day event.. a little more lighthearted than my usual stuff, but not a complete walkover.**

 **It'll be a multi chapter story but won't take longer than a week to finish, enjoy!**

 **Don't forget to leave a review .**

 **~Raven**

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A gentle green breeze brushed wayward blonde strands of hair off his forehead as he sat back on an old bench in the all but deserted courtyard, eyes closed as his head tilted towards the setting sun, the artist watched as blurred colours darted across the insides of his eyelids.

An unexpected gust of wind blew the few remaining loose sheets of a thesis across the empty courtyard, the pale slender hand which had let them escape her grasp fruitlessly stretching out suddenly to catch them before running hurriedly across the cobbled pavilion, stooping down to pick up the papers from where the weakening wind had dropped them, frowning slightly as she stood up to rearrange them and tuck them safely into her shoulder bag.

His brow furrowed as his thought travelled to the nearly complete canvas awaiting him in his studio apartment, his hands stretching out in front of him as his fingers joined together to mimic a photo frame in front of him, desperately searching for the missing element to his latest artwork.

Breathing a sigh of relief that her coursework was all in place she stood for a moment, transfixed by the sun as it touched the horizon in the distance, the sky erupting in a myriad of reds and ambers, her thoughts wandered again to that which had been bothering her before she had been so abruptly jerked from her thoughts- her sister's medical expenses were raking up much higher than she thought, and they wouldn't be able to cover it unless she came across some quick cash soon.

Slowly opening his eyes, the artist looked up to the first thing he saw through the square made by his outstretched fingers, a dark mane of midnight hair rippling as a pale delicate hand swept it over one shoulder revealing a slender column of creamy neck. Cerulean eyes widened, breath catching as amber beams of the setting sun's softened light illuminated a delicate, somewhat aristocratic face enshrouded in a haze of inky dark hair.

 _This is it._

His hands itched at his sides, longing for a paint brush, mind a kaleidoscope of colours blending into each other as the image of her eyes burned itself into his mind.

 _This is it_

What he was missing, the final piece to complete his artwork. The feature, model enough to inspire many more weeks' worth canvases. A fiery personality, a mind as sharp as the intensity of her gaze, the face of an angel, and the mind, he was sure if he had a chance to meet it, would rival a sphinx.

 _This is it!_

A head of blonde spiky hair approaching her from the corner of her line of vision interrupted her musings, instantly turning to note the stained clothes and paint-streaked hair of who was no doubt an artist at the University's creative art courses. The man who approached her was a good several inches taller than her, tanned skin bronzed in the soft light of the setting sun, yellow hair dyed golden by the same sun's rays. Steady even paces, a set jaw and glint in his cerulean blue eyes, told her he was presumably approaching her with the intent to ask her of something, and he was assured of her response in the positive for some reason.

Despite having spent much time with Sasori, often around the arts buildings on campus, she'd never seen this particular student before, which gave her the impression he must have been relatively new to the area.

And something in the slight tilt of his head told her he wasn't truly seeing _her_ anymore- he was seeing his own world, of colours and shapes, and as he finally stood a few feet away from her, as she felt a reluctant blush dust her cheeks at the _intensity_ of his gaze as he towered over her, lean and lithe and as attractive as they come (though she would not openly admit to thinking as such), he seemed too lost in his world of artwork to say anything, leaving her to grow confused as to what exactly was going on behind those strikingly blue eyes of his.

 _A puzzle_

Maybe he'd heard of Sasori and knew of her _relationship_ with the red haired artist? Or perhaps she'd misread his behaviour entirely and he was looking for his way around, might have been lost or something?

Opening her mouth slightly, about to ask him what he wanted, schooling her features into a polite smile, she started to greet him before finding herself interrupted by his words.

"Model for me."

Her eyes widened with surprise as she registered his words.

It wasn't as though the idea of modelling for artists was new to her; it was, after all, what she did for Sasori on a regular basis. But she was surprised by the boldness behind his low, smooth command.

This, coming from a man she didn't even known, hadn't even seen for more than a minute.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" She asked, trying to keep the skeptical edge out of her voice.

"I mean, I'll pay you! And it'll only be a few hours for a few days. _Please_."

 _What does he want?_ Was he being sincere? An innocent need to paint her? She eyed him suspiciously, yet nothing about the way he carried himself was anywhere near indicative of his having an ulterior motive. Then _why_? _How strange._

She was intrigued, she decided, as she watched the gears whir in his head, thoughts surely taking him far further than their conversation in the deserted, windswept courtyard.

She _did_ need the money, after all.

Maybe she could solve this puzzle?

"I'd love to. Hinata Hyuga." She held out a hand in greeting, a genuine smile dressing her lips as she realised she hadn't even gotten a reply to her question on his identity.

His large, calloused hand enveloped her in a firm, reassuring grip as he shook her hand, a grin on his face as he introduced himself. "I'm Naruto. Naruto Uzumaki."


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 2, let's hope I can keep it regular.**

 **Enjoy and review**

 **~Raven**

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The door opened before she had even raised her hand to knock the painted wooden surface revealing a somewhat frazzled blonde in the threshold of the studio apartment.

His hands covered in different shades of orange and yellow, his hair peppered with flecks of green, and a dark blue smear over his face, Naruto stood, his face erupting into a delighted grin as he recognised her.

"I was worried you weren't going to show up, thanks so much for coming." He said, still tilting the corners of his mouth upwards, grinning as he stepped aside holding the door open and subtly tilting his head, inviting her inside.

Quick, nimble strides saw her walking past the entrance into a haphazardly arranged living room, with sheets thrown at random over pieces of furniture pushed into the far corners of the rather spacious, well lit room.

Several canvases stood on various easels, also covered by paint stained sheets with bottles of spray paints scattered across the room, paint stains on various parts of the wall, paintbrushes scattered across the room, and a three legged, multicoloured stool sitting in front of one of the canvases with tubes of acrylics and a palette full of paints sitting on the floor next to it.

 _Disorganised; must like to shift the focus of his attention to different projects at different times; completely immersed in his art, must think of anything else as minimal priority; no care for personal appearance, almost as though he enjoys being covered in colours- a general taste for lighter, flashier colours if the ones visible throughout the room were anything to go by._

Her analytical mind broke down every aspect of his character made apparent to her by the way his room was arranged, briefly juxtaposing it with the other artists she had made the acquaintance of. Deidara worked mostly with clay, but wouldn't push his couch so far out of priority's reach if his life depended on it, Sasori worked with much darker, more somber colours, chose to keep his artwork entirely away from his living space and kept both areas much more neatly kept, almost to the point of obsession.

She felt a small amount of respect grow for this blonde man she didn't even know beyond the fact that he was an artist of the same university, for the dedication he seemed to pour into his work and for the way it seemed to consume him. As though the colours were in control of him, and not the reverse. As though slowly only the colours would remain.

"So, how do you want me?" She asked, cutting straight to the chase as she looked at him pointedly, noting how he seemed to have been lost in his own thoughts until then, before turning to look at her with a jolt.

"How do I… Oh, just put on those shoes over there please." He said gesturing towards a pair of dark, shiny red stilettos sitting next to yet another stool placed next to the window.

 _It's just another modelling job_ , she thought to herself as she slipped of the comfortable boots she'd been wearing, slipping her mismatched socks off and walking towards the shoes he'd indicated, slipping her cardigan off her shoulders and placing it on the windowsill before curiously eyeing the blood red shoes, surprisingly in her size. _He must be quite observant, to have guessed my shoe size so aptly._ Her eyes slid back towards the blonde who was busy pulling the sheet off the canvas he must have intended to work on. His attention was solely focused on the linen and wooden frame in front of him, almost as though he'd forgotten her presence in the room.

 _He sees the world through a different lens. As though his palette of colours is different from the rest._

It intrigued her, really. She wouldn't be wasting her time with a near obsessed artist whom she barely knew if he hadn't offered her money for it, but she found their interaction intriguing nonetheless.

As though she wanted to pick apart his character and analyse what made him tick, write a book out of it almost.

Her hands moving to unbutton the top of her blouse preparing to disrobe herself, a strangled exclamation from behind her startled her out of her actions, turning around in surprise.

"What are you doing?" The blonde asked her, eyes near bulging, a red tint to his cheeks head tilted at an angle that would keep her body out of his line of sight.

"What do you mean?" She asked, stopping to turn to face him properly, fully aware of how his eyes darted somewhat unabashedly to the pale skin exposed by her now near entirely open shirt, her head tilted slightly in question.

"Why are you taking your clothes off?!" His eyes rose to meet hers, the awkward shake in his voice fast receding as his gaze pinned her with an amused eyebrow raised enquiringly.

"You wanted me to model for you wearing those shoes did you not?" She asked pointedly, noting the way her statement did not seem to him as self explanatory as it did to her.

"Yes well, keep your clothes on at the very least, my apartment's not _that_ warm." He quipped, piquing her interest as she paused for a moment unsure of what he was asking

Why would he go to such lengths for her to model for his paintings if he had no apparent intention of using her body in his artwork?

"Then do you intend to draw me wearing my current attire?" She ventured cautiously.

"Just…whatever makes you comfortable, as long as the shoes are on." He said, still seemingly amused by their exchange, as she felt his eyes leave her own and sweep appraisingly over her exposed bodice, trailing down her bare legs to linger on her feet.

She eyed him, somewhat confused still, her mind working to piece together the unlikely possibility that he really was a naïve young painter who had no idea what it meant to model for an artist.

"Unless," she heard his voice lower seductively as he took a step closer to her, a near cheeky grin slipping onto his face as he teased, "…you're so eager to jump into my bed?"

 _So he's going to play it like that._ She felt her own lips curl upward into a smirk. _Two could play at that game, afterall_. Taking a step closer, her voice barely above a silky whisper, doing her best to compose herself into a convincing act of sincerity, she replied, "As eager as you are, Naruto."

She watched a shadow of doubt ghost across his face as her words had seemingly made it worryingly unclear where the line lay between casual teasing and an actual flirt.

 _More bark than bite, then._

"Why ask a woman you don't even know to fill shoes which any girl could fill?"she asked, her voice back to its normal detached smooth clarity as she took a step back, turning away, her hands moving to refasten the buttons of her shirt before bending over to slip into the shoes he'd intended for her.

"I'm not one of those cheap, classless artists who asks a woman he barely knows to strip down for the sake of a half baked, emotionless piece of work." His retort was calm, betraying none of the hostility his words implied, as she found herself turning to face him one again, silently acknowledging yet another aspect to the growing portrait of character she'd painted of him in her mind.

 _Emotionless_ piece of work. A painter who sees his canvas as a thing of emotion, not an aesthetic display?

"In fact," he drew her out of her thoughts as he went on to say, "I would call it a disgrace to my work- wouldn't even ask a woman I _do_ know to nude model for me unless _she_ specifically asked it of me."

"That's not how most of the visual arts work," she replied, her eyes honed on his face as she picked up signs of distaste at her statement, his implied scowl mocking her words.

"And what would a psychology major know about the visual arts?" He asked wryly.

"Enough." The hint of condescension in her statement did not go unnoticed.

She watched him turn away from her, shaking his head with an infuriating grin which told her he didn't agree in any way with what she'd said. He crossed the room to where the evening sunlight streamed through a large window, cascading over the black shiny stool placed next to it. Several feet away stood yet another canvas, covered by a white sheet, various brushes and paint tubes scattered next to the palette on the floor behind the small wooden stool seated behind the canvas.

Sliding onto the wooden stool, Naruto swivelled around to look at her again, "Look, since you've clearly had the wrong experience modelling for – whoever it is you've modelled for before, I'll make this simple. I have my own reasons for asking you to model for me, just like I'm sure you had your reasons for agreeing so quickly, but I wouldn't care even if you wore a plastic bag, as long as I can paint _you_ in _those_ shoes."There was a quiet intensity to his words that melted her insides and pricked at her conscience as she drew yet another stark comparison between the artists she knew, and had spent much of her life with, and this strange man she barely knew, somehow inherently finding herself aligning with and approving of the blonde in front of her far more than those she spent more time with.

Pausing, his eyes piercing her like honed knives, almost as though assessing her in the same way she had been scrutinising his every move, he went on to add with a sympathetic frown which showed her he was well aware of the relationship she had with an artist he'd claimed not to know the identity of only moments earlier, "And not every artist is as perverse as that joke of an artist Sasori."

"He's top of the Senior year." She deadpanned, fulfilling the need to aptly defend her childhood artist friend and partner.

The same infuriating grin which she'd come to label as his favourite way to acknowledge a challenge, crept its way onto his face as he said, "Well they clearly don't know _me_ yet."

She stood, rooted to the spot for a moment as her mind slowly analysed the sheer determination, confidence and utter lack of humility behind his statement, yet another piece in her mental image of him filling itself out with another aspect of his character.

Unwittingly, almost subconsciously, she found herself bubbling into soft peals of laughter- not of condescension or mockery in any way, but genuine appreciation of his words.

She watched as his eyes widened slightly, somewhat surprised by her reaction, the corners of his lips tugging upwards in an appreciative smirk as he recognised her sincerity, almost as though he were savouring the expression on her face.

"You're not that bad, Uzumaki." She said, her admiration of his character somewhat growing as she added, "I think we'll get along."


	3. Chapter 3

He'd been thinking of her more often.

Ever since she had left his studio over a week ago, he'd been thinking of her as though she were permanently etched into his mind. Her expression of surprise, shock and somewhat dubious curiosity upon seeing the splash of vibrant colours and patterns intertwined with the crimson red of her shoes and legs he'd left on his canvas one which haunted his subconscious as he slipped in and out of blissful slumber in the dead of the night. His style of impressionistic abstract art wasn't one she'd ever properly encountered before, but from the look of intrigue that he'd watched paint itself upon her face, he'd gathered it wasn't an unpleasant experience for her.

There was something constantly brimming beneath those silvery eyes of hers, as though everything she saw around her was merely a puzzle she intended to piece together, a personality so strong it felt almost tangible to him, different from most people he knew.

He _had_ to paint it, to put it on a canvas, and something told him it would take a lot more getting to properly know her to actually do her eany justice with artist's mind.

Nonetheless, she intrigued him, and every time he'd sat down to paint since the last time he'd seen her, his hands itched to recreate some part of her on his canvas, even if it had to be drawn from memory. He'd refrained from doing so, but only out of the knowledge that she'd be his for the taking again soon. On canvas, that is.

He'd thoroughly enjoyed getting to know her through the subtle, intermittent conversation they'd kept going while he worked; it was so _engaging_ to talk to her, almost as though it were a challenge on her part which he refused to back down on. It gave him more and more proof of the vibrant personality he'd expected lay behind the serene face she wore.

The sound of rushed footsteps outside of his door drew his attention to the present as he opened the front door, leaving the slender pale hand that had been raised to knock the door poised in the air.

The vague glint of approval in silvery round eyes and the curve of a coy smile on inviting scarlet lips met his own grin at the sight of the woman in front of him, as he quickly stepped aside inviting her in, noting that she'd forgone skirt for dark denim jeans and a low cut sweater on this occasion, her seemingly favourite boots wrapped snugly around her feet.

"Sorry I'm late." She said, somewhat breathless, her lips parted in a dazzling smile which he found his attention being drawn back to more and more often.

"Atleast you came, didn't think you'd want to after what you saw last time." He joked, smirking knowingly as he followed her into his living room.

"Not entirely convinced with your artwork if I'm being brutally honest- but I don't back out of commitments." She quipped, the humour in her tone detracting from her would-be harsh words.

"You wound me." He replied, keeping up with their light hearted banter.

"So… are you going to paint me for real this time?" She asked, mildly curious as to what his answer would be.

"I always 'paint for real' don't worry." He retorted with a wry grin, disappearing behind one of the larger canvases in the room, pulling the sheet which covered it off and tossing it aside as he leant down to find a paintbrush amidst the tubes of paint which lay in a haphazard heap next to his stool.

When she failed to reply, he swivelled in his stool to turn and look at her again, angling the easel slightly so that he could see both his model and his canvas at the same time.

She seemed rooted to the spot, her gaze fixed intently on one of the large windows, as though her thoughts had drifted elsewhere, while he took the chance to observe the delicate arch of her brows, and the succulent shape of her lips. He'd originally planned on focusing on her hair on this occasion, just as he had on her legs the last time he'd painted her, but seeing her now, with her hair tied elegantly into a messy bun above her head, and her lips oh-so-invitingly beckoning him to recreate them with his own hands, he impulsively decided he'd try and capture another aspect of her personality.

That would do nicely, the fiery seductress who he'd never encountered but was sure lurked somewhere beneath her tranquil, cool demeanour. The one who unconsciously called to him with every tilt of her head, or every time her pearly white teeth bit unconsciously into her crimson lower lip.

He leant down again, fishing out every shade of red, pink and blue he possessed to blend a colour to match her lips, his mind conjuring up shapes and patterns, blends of colours he could use to capture her personality.

The last time he'd painted her, he'd already had a backdrop drawn out, with her legs construing the finishing touches to a largely created piece of abstract work. This time, he planed on lacing her persona entirely throughout the colours on his canvas- he found himself unconsciously mapping out a blend of dark and bright streaks of rose gold and vibrant magenta, subtle shades of wine rouge or cherry red laced in between darker blues and mauves as they formed a spidery network of colours in his mind's image of the canvas.

"Naruto?" Her clear, silky voice cut through his thoughts, adding yet another layer of depth to his mind's canvas as he struggled to find a colour to represent her voice.

"Naruto?" Her voice cutting through his thoughts once more, sharper than before, a hint of curiosity creeping into her words.

He jolted, slightly, reminded of the necessity to interact with his present company, turning away from his palette with a sheepish smile to say, "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Just asking where you want me to sit?" She asked, her head tilting to the left as she looked at him, almost as though studying his actions. On some level, he was starting to feel like a specimen in some laboratory experiment, as though she was evaluating him on an entirely different level.

"Oh, as close as possible," he blurted about, eager to start painting, before stopping for a moment to realise how suggestive he'd sounded, correcting himself to say, "I mean, just pull up a stool next to the canvas, whatever feels comfortable, this might take a while."

He watched her raise an amused eyebrow, smirking as she stood, hand resting on her hip as she watched him turn back to his canvas.

"No shoes this time?" She asked, her lilting tone seemingly entertained by what she'd described as 'near eccentricity' the last time he'd acted as such.

"No, _just you_." He said, deliberately pinning her with what he considered an intense gaze as he lowered his voice to a husky undertone as he finished his last two words- solely with the intention to get even at her given the way she seemed to be almost mocking him.

Not missing a beat, her smirk held as she responded with a coy shake of her head, turning to grab the nearest stool and bringing it towards his canvas and seating herself an arm's length away from him.

His eyes wandered from the blank canvas in front of him to the subtle sway of her hips as she walked towards him, close enough for him to touch with very little effort yet far enough away to not be considered inappropriate, his eyes drawn to the way her pink tongue darted nimbly over her lower lip, once again bringing him back to those irresistibly red lips.

If he didn't start focusing soon then he'd find himself doing something he might regret.

Once he'd started piecing together his creation on the blank canvas, he found it easy to slip once again into the easy conversation he'd had with her last time, this time finding himself telling her more about himself- about his recent transfer to the university, the city he came from, and even more personal things, recounting stories of funny incidents he'd played part in, or telling her about the friends he'd made in his short time on the new campus. It was so _easy_ with her. Different too, he didn't think he'd met anyone like her- certainly no one who'd captured his attention the way she had. He hadn't felt an urge to paint any one single person in a long time.

And contrary to a casual observer, she wasn't nearly as tight wrought as you'd think. She was a genuinely fun person- fun and smart, not a pushover in any way.

He'd heard campus rumours though, and one which was definitely truth, was that she was in a steady relationship with one of the Senior artists, supposedly one of the best artists the institute had seen in a long time. He'd seen the guy personally- there was no love lost between them, but he found himself continually questioning how someone like _her_ could end up with a conceited asshole like _him_.

Sasori rubbed him entirely the wrong way; from his rigid insistence on his 'illusionistic' style of art- that which leaves no distinction between the subject and the artwork itself; to the cold, unforgiving disdain with which he regarded the artwork of others, his character was one Naruto had to force himself to maintain some semblance of decency with. And yet, Hinata, who was by far one of the most interesting people he'd met on the new campus, chose to be with _him_?

His attention constantly wandered back to her lips, somewhat appropriately as that was the subject of his creation that day, but also out of the sheer inability to look away from them, almost overcome with the urge to touch them.

She was, after all, a beautiful woman.

Hours later, at a point in time much later than he'd originally intended, when he finally decided he was satisfied with the canvas in its condition, he gradually set his palette down and turned his head finally to look at her, face caught in mid laugh at some joke he'd made.

"You're done?" She asked, her expression almost surprised, as though she hadn't been expecting it. There was no sign of tiredness on her face, though he expected she'd definitely had enough of sitting in one place for so long.

"I think, just about. If there's anything I want to add, it's not coming to me now." He said, struggling to find an emotion to define the look on her face.

Apparently, curiosity won over as she asked, "Can I see?"

He chuckled slightly, inclining his head towards the canvas and beckoning her over to take a look, before saying, "I'm going to go wash my hands and grab something to drink, you want anything?"

Standing up, stretching her legs slowly as she allowed herself a moment to stretch her arms outwards in front of her, flexing her spine in the process, she answered, "Water would be nice."

He nodded and walked into his kitchen, watching the expression of surprise and somewhat appreciation as she saw his finished creation out of the corner of his eyes. When he reentered the room, it was one of confused curiosity, as though she were studying the painting as intently as she'd been studying him earlier. Passing her a glass of water, he watched her lips frame the rim of the glass as her head tilted backwards, found s attention trailing upwards from the gulp in her throat back to her rosy red lips, yet again.

"I was wondering, d'you want to go out to grab a bite to eat at some point?" He found himself asking somewhat boldly as she turned to look at him.

Her face quickly turning to look at the silver watch on her wrist, she frowned slightly before saying, "Sasori'll be waiting for me, I don't think I can today."

Feeling as though he'd shot himself in the foot in asking, he nodded, "Oh, all right. You best get back soon then." He started walking towards the hallway to reach the front door, feeling her gaze on his back, before her lilting voice stopped him in his tracks again as she said, "But a definite yes on the getting together at some point…how does lunch tomorrow sound? We can meet in front of the fountain on campus?"

Turning to look back on her, he found himself smirking in appreciation as he said, "I can't wait, sounds great."

He watched her pick her coat off from where she'd left it near the windowsill, and the walk up to join him as they reached his apartment door.

"I guess I'll see you at noon then?" He asked, turning to look at her with an almost unplaceable tension between them as he opened the door and she stood at the threshold, looking up at him while standing in the corridor outside his apartment.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she nodded, "Twelve sounds good."

He found himself mirroring her smirk, standing less than an arm's length away from her yet again, neither of them parting ways quite yet, as though there was something left to say.

On impulse, he let instinct take over and he closed the distance between them and leaned in to catch her ruby red lips which felt as soft as they looked, with his own in a strong, intense kiss, feeling her respond gently, her eyelashes fluttering against him for what felt like ages but couldn't have been more than a few seconds, before he reigned in his own self control and pulled away, breathless and husky as he said, "I've been wanting to do that all evening."

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 **Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews...more please :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's another instalment, can I have a huge shoutout to all the wonderful reviews I've had on the story. I haven't had time to reply to any individually but they're a treat to read always.**

 **I know a lot of you were looking for a close up on their lunch together but, I've focused this story around their painting sessions till now, not too keen on breaking that pattern, apologies for any disappointment that may cause.**

 **While I'm not majorly keen on adding in a host of other characters in this story, I've added in a few to keep the plot going, hoping that's a middle ground we can all agree on.**

 **Hope you enjoy it, Reviews are always welcome!**

 **~ Raven**

* * *

There were times when she questioned the entirety of her relationship with Sasori. Sure, they were a campus item, she featured in the majority of his artwork, they'd been dating for two years now.

And even when they fought- as they were in the middle of doing as such for the past few days- they still managed to sort things out by the end.

But did she love her red haired childhood friend?

Most probably not.

The first time he'd asked her to model for her was the last time they'd interacted as friends; although somewhat nervous she hadn't been uncooperative in stripping for him- she trusted him, if nothing else.

And once he slept with her at the end of that session, they'd never quite settled for friends since. The

At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do; the comfortable option. They weren't unhappy in the apartment they shared off campus.

But she didn't love him. In fact, she hadn't thought it necessary.

Then why, while she'd walked back after the last time she'd modelled for Naruto, could she not for the life of her bring herself to be angry at the way he'd made a pass at a woman who was quite clearly taken? Why was the only thing on her mind as she kissed Sasori in greeting, the image of blonde hair and strong, paint stained fingers cupping her face and pulling her closer? How come when she fell asleep resting her head on his shoulder, was the only thing pricking her conscience the nagging sensation that she was in the wrong place?

And why did she still proceed to go out for lunch with a man who was quite clearly willing to ignore the fact that she was in a relationship and pursue her of his own accord? And then go on to thoroughly enjoy herself with a personality that had managed to captivate her attention in a way none had for the longest of times?

She felt a slightly sharper tug at her hair bring her attention back to the present, with a visible wince as she turned hair head back to look accusatorially at the long haired blonde currently in the process of tying her hair up into an elaborately pleated geisha-styled bun.

"Sheesh! I'm sorry, ok, stop giving me the death glare!" Ino's voice echoed from behind her, long nimble fingers still laced in her midnight dark locks.

"A little more gentle wouldn't kill anyone, Ino. Except you, maybe." A soft laugh chimed from the windowsill to Hinata's right, where a rosette haired woman sat perched on the window ledge, mocking her blonde haired best friend.

"Why don't you try styling her hair then, its harder than rocket science I swear, Naruto has the strangest of demands!" The blonde retorted indignantly, and though Hinata couldn't actually see her face, she knew the blonde was in the middle of one of her exaggerated eye rolls as she spoke.

"You're the one who agreed to do it." Sakura deadpanned, still sitting on the windowsill she seemed to have claimed as her own, watching as Ino swept up a part of hinata's hair and folded it inwards to form an ornately hanging bun beneath the pleated design she'd created atop her head with the remainder of her hair.

Naruto had sent her a short text in the morning- apparently he'd found out she was close friends with Ino and Sakura, and somehow knew them too as he'd requested she let Ino style her hair at her apartment before she went to his apartment for their next session.

"How'd you meet Naruto anyway, Hinata?" The blonde asked, ignoring Sakura's statement as she looked down at her dark haired friend with a mischievous smirk.

"He asked me to model for him, I needed a job. Simple as that." She responded, trying her best to keep her voice entirely neutral as she spoke; knowing Ino she'd make all sorts of insinuations if Hinata gave her any leeway to do so.

"Model for him? Sure that's _all_ that you've been doing with him?" The teasing hint in the blonde's voice did not go unnoticed.

Her thoughts drifted slightly to the lunch she'd had with him the other day, how much it felt like a date when it so clearly wasn't.

"What do you expect her to say, Ino? She's with Sasori," Sakura interjected with a light laugh, resorting to their usual banter.

 _To think there actually was something to say; should she tell them?_

"But he's _hot_. I mean, he didn't use to be, but _damn_ he's hot now." The tasteful appreciation in Ino's voice was borderline wolf whistling by this point.

She felt the back of her neck flush ever so slightly as her thoughts drifted back to the feel of his lips against hers the last time she'd modelled for him, before she snapped her thoughts back to present, idly thinking that perhaps she _did_ need a second opinion on it- who better to ask than her two experts on all things masculine?

"But _she's_ taken." Sakura quipped.

"A-actually," she interrupted, feeling Ino's curious eyes instantly snapping to the back of her head, boring into her.

Ino was a predator by nature. She had an unconquerable need to know about or have some element of control over anything and everything going on around her. Which of course meant that she was an insufferable gossip, and loved to interrogate people with a vengeance.

"Go on…?" She asked, almost impatiently.

From the other side of the room Sakura looked at her with mild curiosity, and a significant amount of surprise on her face.

Sakura was a different type of predator. The type that let their prey come to them, because they were utterly confident in the fact that they would eventually approach her. But she was also much more prone to empathising than her blonde friend- not out of the blonde's lack of compassion, but due to the rosette's abundance of it.

"I may have…unintentionally…been kissed by him?" She ventured, gauging their reactions carefully.

Sakura looked as though she might burst into laughter at any moment… but there was a glint of what seemed like understanding in her eyes. Ino, on the other hand, looked ecstatic.

"Oh my god! Our Hinata's finally going to break up with that asshole, I can't believe it!" She exclaimed, darting round to stand in front of her as she started weaving multiple gold and silver ornate looking flowers into her hair.

"I never said-"

"Did you kiss back?" It was Sakura asking this time, finally pushing herself off the window ledge to plop herself down on the bed in Ino's room.

"…yes"

"I want details! Who knew you could score a hunk like that, more like two at the same time, Hinata! Is he a good kisser? Better than Sasori?" Ino pressed with her relentless questioning.

"I had lunch with him too… not on the job." Hinata found herself adding, almost as though an afterthought.

"Oh Shit, you _like_ him don't you." Ino said, stressing on the word and wiggling her eyebrows, winking afterwards.

She burst into laughter at the sight, as did Sakura, for no specific reason save for the fact that they both found the blonde's facial expressions inexplicably hilarious at times- said blonde cursed loudly, jumping to keep Hinata's hair in place.

Once she'd finally calmed herself to a point where she was no longer in danger of bubbling into peals of laughter at a second's notice, and she trusted herself to speak again, she continued, "I'm screwed. I don't even know if I like him, and then there's Sasori."

A light touch to her shoulder lingered for a few seconds, and she let herself indulge in the small comfort for a change. "Hey, you don't need to do anything right now. Just figure out where things are going- you'll know what to do when you need to." Ino's words could, on occasion, be quite thoughtful, considerate.

"Plus, we're here for you. I'll beat Naruto into shape if he does something you don't like." Sakura added.

 _It had taken her a while to break the easy, enjoyable conversation between them and muster the will to address the issue of their kiss the previous night- especially when she found it such a pleasure to merely talk and interact with the blonde, learn more about his character- one which she was growing more and more fond of by the minute, but she'd eventually addressed the topic once they'd sat down at a cafe for lunch, tentatively checking if he actually knew that she was in a relationship._

 _"Naruto…what happened last night, you do know that I'm in a relationship, right?"_

 _He'd nodded, not in the least surprised by her words, adding an, "I know"_

 _"I'm not a cheat." She spoke firmly, hoping the implied meaning of her words would reach him._

 _He nodded, smiling as he said, "You're way too nice to be a cheat, Hinata. Break up with him, then."_

 _She felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the sudden boldness of his statement. "E-Excuse me?!"_

 _"I mean, you know you want to." He added casually, as though her were commenting on something as trivial as the weather._

 _"We've been together for-"_

 _"Two years, a campus item, yeah, I've heard." He dismissed her protests with a nonchalant shrug before he fixed her with another of his intense, smouldering looks as he continued, "You deserve to be with someone who doesn't need you to strip to think he loves you."_

Through all their conversation that day, those lines keep mulling over in her head for the past week, even as she'd finally reached his apartment studio after Ino had deemed her hair satisfactory.

He'd opened the door and spent several minutes standing at the threshold, staring at the ornate flowers and design of her hair, before telling her that she looked stunning, leading her indoors.

Memories of her most recent fight with Sasori lay fresh in her mind, especially seeing as the entirety of that fight was based off her interactions with the blonde haired artist, but she'd made it clear to Naruto that she wasn't about to cheat on Sasori in any way, and he seemed insistent on remaining friends with her nonetheless; she wasn't about to stop talking to the man simply because Sasori decided to act all territorial all of a sudden.

And besides, no matter what Ino and Sakura said, regardless of how difficult Sasori was being, she wasn't about to go behind his back or _do_ anything with the blonde haired artist who'd all but fascinated her in the last few weeks, was she?

"...Hinata?"

Her attention snapped back to the present as she caught the tail end of something he was trying to ask her.

"Sorry, were you saying something?" She asked, mentally pummelling herself for allowing her attention to slide so quickly.

"Just hoping you didn't mind the short notice with getting Ino to do your hair and everything, I really had this urge to have your hair done up traditionally when I paint it." He spoke, a somewhat sheepish grin on his face as he went about setting up his easel for the day, fishing around for his palette in the back of the room, going on to explain how he'd found out she was friends with the girls- and how he'd known Sakura since high school.

Sasori had overreacted, obviously- he'd heard about her modelling for a friend from the wrong sources, evidently, and had gotten the wrong idea about her agreeing to model for a different artist.

And she'd been in the wrong too, at least, suggesting they take a break when he was so worked up like that couldn't have ended well in any circumstances- especially not when he was being so forceful.

"..next to me? Hinata?" Naruto's low, piercing voice cut through her thoughts again, leaving her clueless as to what he'd been asking her yet again, and almost embarrassed by her lack of attentiveness.

Seeing the confused expression on her face, he seemed to understand the need to repeat himself, as he went on to say, "Do you want to come over and sit down next to me? I'm just about ready to start."

Taking a look at the stool sitting a few feet in front of where he was sitting, with his canvas angled so that he could see both her and his screen at the same time, she nodded, walking over to sit down in front of him, an action which was greeted by a nod of approval.

Sasori wasn't abusive, no he was far too smart for that, and she wasn't the type of pushover who would just take that kind of treatment. He wasn't emotionally abusive either, he knew she could lay it on him just as thick if he ever tried. Except…on nights like the one they'd fought most recently, when he'd been out at a bar with the guys, arguably more drunk than he should be, it was almost as though he was a different man.

When she'd suggested they take a break, he'd tried to strike her, yes. But she'd stopped him- wasn't that hard to catch a sluggish man's arm when aimed at her face. He'd apologise for it later, either way.

And, he'd resorted to taking his anger out on her in a different way when he'd dragged her to their bedroom against all protests, but he _had_ apologised as soon as any semblance of common sense came upon him the next morning. They were still frosty with each other over her insistence on not listening to him when he'd asked her to stop meeting Naruto at all, but he had genuinely regretted forcing himself on her in the way he had.

It wasn't as though they couldn't get over it, after all?

And she understood Sasori in that she'd spent so much time with him, his psychological profile was one she knew like the back of her hand. He'd come around eventually, it would remain as another of those things they occasionally disagreed with, but he wouldn't try to control her life as though he owned her.

 _Which had been his claim the night he'd flipped out on her like that._

"…classes yet?" Naruto's voice interrupted the dark turn her thoughts had began taking yet again, leaving her absolutely clueless as to what question lay behind the warm smile he directed at her.

 _What had he said again? Something about his art classes?_

"Are you enjoying the arts course on campus then?" She asked, trying to put together some semblance of an answer that could relate to his question.

The confused expression of worry on his face told her she'd somehow misinterpreted what he was trying to ask her.

"I mean, the classes are great yeah but Hinata, I was asking about your psychology course, are you ok? What's wrong?"

 _Oops. Play it cool, nothing's wrong._

"Shit, sorry Naruto, I've been spacing out too much today really. Nothing's wrong, I'm fine." She answered, schooling her features into a calm expression of candour.

"That's a lie and you know it as well as I do, what's been bothering you? You can trust me, you know." He said, the sincerity in his voice so powerful it had her just about willing to tell him everything.

But she couldn't, of course. She wasn't the type to share personal problems so offhandedly.

"It's fine. Really."

He didn't seem to believe her, and something told her he could almost sense the lie in her words, for there was nothing about the way she was speaking to make anyone believe that she was being anything but honest.

He leaned down to set his palette on the floor, stood up, and walked closer to her saying, "I can't bring myself to paint you knowing something's troubling you like this, really. Come sit down with me on the couch, maybe, and we can talk. I swear, you can tell me anything."

She looked up at him, not with any hint of distrust or suspicion, but a slight wariness. She didn't need any more reasons to like the blonde haired artist or his personality, she was already in danger of doing something she'd regret as it is, were it not her strong insistence to stick to her morals above all else.

But she did trust the man in front of her- he'd been nothing but kind to her, in fact, thinking back to the last time she'd left this apartment, he'd been _much more_ than kind to her. And if she couldn't tell her girls about it, and she wouldn't tell him, then who could she tell? Contrary to popular belief, there really weren't that many people on campus she'd claim to trust, this particular artist was just…really quick to join the small number of people she could trust.

She let him lead her to the far end of the room, where his couch lay covered by a few white sheets. Pulling the sheets off, he plopped himself down on the worn green upholstery, beckoning for her to do the same.

Tentatively sitting down on the more comfortable, cushioned settee, she chanced a look at his face, trying to understand exactly what aspect of his nature would drive him to be so…insistent on having her open up to him like that. Was he truly being genuine? Or was this his way of convincing her to break up with Sasori like he'd hinted at the other day when they'd had lunch together?

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, somewhat ironically considering he'd all but demanded they sit and talk about whatever it was he thought was troubling her.

"Are you really going to let it slide if I say no?" She quipped, knowing his answer would be in the negative. He was too caring of others, clearly.

"What were you thinking about before I tried asking you that last question?" He asked, trying for a different approach, tilting his head back to where his canvas lay set up on the easel he was working on.

"Its nothing really, I had a little… _quarrel_ …with Sasori. I was just sorting through facts in my head, that's all."

"A quarrel? You mean, like a fight? Shit, when? What happened?" He asked, barraging her with questions in a manner that almost seemed comparable to Ino, except his questions seemed a tad more considerate than Ino's blunt interrogation.

"He was out for a night with the guys and heard something he didn't like, really, it was no issue."

"What, did he hurt you?"

"God, no! I mean, he was drunk he wouldn't do anything like that on purpose. Really, it's not an issue." She said, stubbornly feeling the need to defend her own choice of company, rather than Sasori's character itself.

For in truth, she _did_ feel violated, in a sense. She trusted Sasori, it was one of the only reasons why their relationship had lasted so long. But should she really, anymore ?

"He hurt you." His words seemed more like an angered statement more than a question anymore.

"Look Naruto, I know you mean well but, like I said the other day, I'm in this relationship of my own volition. I'm slightly distracted by the fight, yes, because the subject of the fight was _you_ and yet here I am, spending time with a _friend_ my boyfriend doesn't want me with in any way. I'm not about to listen to him on that, but I don't need you getting involved either. Am I clear?" She finished, trying to make sure she'd addressed everything he could possibly argue against and close the discussion here.

Apparently not, as he went on to say, "But, I just don't get it. Why are you with a man who you clearly don't love, you don't seem to trust either, who doesn't even respect you like you deserve?"

"What makes you say that?" She asked, an almost cold edge to her voice.

"Sasori's a lot like his painting style- it's real, and it's detailed, and if he's got the right picture it's even hauntingly beautiful. But that's the end of it. His paintings can't _speak_ to you, make you _feel_ anything when you look at them. That extends to his personality too, he's just not the kind of person who… his brush just can't do justice to someone with as vibrant and varied a personality as you, I just _know_ you can't possibly be happy with how things are now. Do you even trust him?" His voice, though never mocking of the redhead, made a strong distaste for said artist clear.

And though she'd never think so ill of Sasori, she couldn't help but agree with parts of what Naruto was saying.

All of a sudden, she'd found herself with another insight into how the blonde's mind works, the way he view the world so differently, in terms of colours and emotions, rather than shapes and aesthetic appeal. And, in his explanation, she found a large part of her intrinsically looking upon her attitude towards Sasori in a new light. She _didn't_ trust him, she _didn't_ love him.

But she wasn't about to just leave him, was she?

Turning to look at the blonde next to her, and the intense, concerned furrow of his brow as he leaned over to look at her, she found a part of her resolve to defend Sasori crumble, along with the constant nagging of the topic on her mind in the first place.

The serenity on her face genuine this time, she turned to face him directly, saying, "Thank you, Naruto. But I think you've set my mind at ease for now. Do you want to go back to painting?"

And the confusion which came upon his face, coupled with the somewhat relieved expression as he seemed to realise she genuinely was considerably less troubled by whatever she was talking about to begin with, technically should have been the end of the conversation, with them returning to the canvas for him to finish recreating the image of her hair on the canvas with whatever strange twist he would add to it this time.

Somehow, however, it wasn't. They didn't return to the canvas until much later, by which time they had been talking for what could easily have been hours- she found herself sharing things about herself that not even Sasori, or the few girls she called friends knew. About her dead family, her sick sister. About the move from the North to the centre of the city, with just her cousin and sister, with one turning to find a job that could keep them with some semblance of security to fall back on if the small fortune their parents had left them with fell through. About how when her sister had been diagnosed, everything went into treating her. Neji had a secure job, yes. But the bills for her sisters health kept ratcheting upwards, to the point where she'd take up jobs like small scale modelling around the university and whatnot, to make ends meet. To the point where, even before she'd started dating Sasori she'd been living with her childhood friend, for lack of cheaper accommodation.

Her sister's illness was long term, and she hasn't told anyone about her family in so long, it almost seemed like an entirely different world compared to the confines of the university campus.

And he told her plenty in return- about where he was from, about the way he'd very nearly lost his parents too, about the way he'd spent the larger part of his childhood ostracised from the rest of the village, considered outsiders to the community they lived in. About the way he'd been labelled as a lost cause before he'd finally gained the people's acceptance- after which he'd moved to the university to carry on with the art he dedicated much of his life to.

When he'd finally finished painting her, having started at some point in the late afternoon, it was with great relief that she finally dismantled her hair from its ornate bun. He'd stepped out of the room for a glass of water, and left her to study the canvas he'd left behind.

A startlingly lifelike rendition of her hair hung in the middle of the canvas- complete with flowers and every intricacy of the updo Ino had created, except, the only part of her on the canvas was the hair. It hung, as though a skullless scalp sat in the middle of the dark canvas, the shadow cast by her hair visible in the surface below the hanging updo. The same kind of floral intricacies which lay buried in her hair, surrounded the rest of the canvas in intricately woven patterns of somber silver and regal gold, yet woven in a pattern which almost seemed to call to her.

A silent beckon, to give a face to the canvas, to break free from whatever restraints held her back.

 _What was he trying to tell her this time?_

For she never looked at a canvas simply to appreciate the artwork…her pleasure always lay in exploring the mind of the artist.

When she finally stood at his doorway, in the same place where he'd kissed her as though she was _his_ woman, not Sasori's, he dropped another bombshell on her, as he spoke.

"I think, we should stop doing this."

The look of confusion on her face lay second only to the shock, a stab of distress nagging at her gut as she realised where this was going.

"I mean, I said I'd pay you for your time and I'll still pay in full don't worry, plus it's not like I don't want your company I really, genuinely enjoy spending time with you, I just…you're clearly not happy with how things are with your boyfriend at the moment, and I don't want to be the reason why he hurts you believe me, I couldn't live with myself if I was. Just…it's probably for the better if we stop now, ne?" The expression of reluctance on his face made it easy for her to see through his excuses, he didn't want to stop painting her- his character simply demanded it of him.

And though it settled uncomfortably in her stomach as he said it, she decided to respect his wishes. It was the least she could do, after all.

Her nod of understanding hid the sliver of disappointment she tried to squash as she smiled politely, turning to leave as she called over her shoulder, "I'll see you around then."


End file.
